


(There's Simply Not) A More Congenial Spot

by lady_ragnell



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Jousting, M/M, Renaissance Faires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-23
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-09-26 09:41:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9883946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_ragnell/pseuds/lady_ragnell
Summary: Enjolras isn't excited about spending the day at a Renaissance Faire, but he meets a knight who might change his mind about that.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Raythanks1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raythanks1/gifts).



> Written for a fic-for-charity post on my tumblr, with many thanks to **Raythanks1** for donating! I've wanted to write a Renaissance Faire story for a while, so I was excited to have the excuse to write a little one.
> 
> Title from the title song of the musical Camelot, because sometimes a person can't resist these things!

Enjolras knows this is supposed to be fun.

Courfeyrac instated a policy almost a year ago that at least twice a month, he and Enjolras and Combeferre should spend some time together that has nothing to do with fighting for any cause, to keep them grounded and to remind them what they're fighting for. This time, it's Combeferre's choice, and since he's been reading a lot of historical fiction and is interested in the artisanal skills on display, they're at a Renaissance Faire.

Most days, Enjolras would be able to roll his eyes and find something fun about it, if only for his friends' sake. Today, he woke up on the wrong side of the bed and hasn't been able to stop himself thinking about the work they have to get back to, and gritting his teeth through the glorification of the monarchy doesn't help.

For the moment, he's leaning against a tree while Combeferre and Courfeyrac watch a demonstration at a blacksmith's booth, someone making a sword in a roped-off space. Enjolras is actually interested in that, but he's more interested for the moment in being able to get away from the crowd for a moment.

“Nobody should look this dour at a place like this unless they're just out of a session in the stocks that their friends talked them into,” says a stranger to Enjolras's side. “You didn't get clapped in the stocks, did you?”

Enjolras thinks about ignoring the man and hoping he'll move on to find some snacks or something, but it's almost a relief to be able to interact with someone who doesn't really care whether he's having fun or not. The man who spoke is wearing what looks like partial armor that must be too hot for the already-warm day judging by the way he's mopping at his forehead ineffectually with a glove. “I'm here for some friends, that's all. This wasn't my choice of activity.”

“Let me guess: you're a history nerd, and all the people dressed up as inaccurate pirates or worse, fairies with sparkly wings, are making you twitch. You should go to SCA meetings if you want accuracy.”

“I have no interest at all in the period and really don't care if people dress up as fairies,” Enjolras says through gritted teeth.

The man just grins at him, easy. Enjolras suspects he's one of the fair's employees from his comfort in the armor, though if he's an employee he probably shouldn't be baiting the guests. “Then what's got you looking like some sort of vengeful angel in a statue?”

Combeferre and Courfeyrac aren't paying attention. “Nostalgia isn't a friend to anyone when there's so much progress—”

“Oh, Christ. People are just having fun here. You could too! Think of it as honoring the better parts of history through a modern lens, or shit like that.”

Enjolras blinks at him, a little startled. “You had that ready.”

“I'm an intermittent art student, the bullshit flows free and easy. Look, this place is ridiculous, but people come here to find some fun. You could do worse than to take that example. Watch a sword fight, or some juggling, or eat some meat on a stick.” His smile goes wry. “Catch a joust.”

“Is that what you do?”

“In theory. If I don't roast to death in this modified tin can Feuilly made for me.” He tilts his head at the blacksmith doing the demonstration. “Check him out, he's a genius. And you look like you have some pent-up aggression, sword-fighting might be something to try.”

Courfeyrac chooses that moment to twist around, looking for him, and goes from worried to curious when he sees Enjolras chatting with someone. He mouths a question Enjolras doesn't catch all of because someone walks between them partway through, but Enjolras nods anyway, and even manages a smile that doesn't feel like he's putting it on. “Do you go around trying to cheer up all the guests who don't look happy?”

“Yeah, because three-year-olds think knights are really badass and they're pretty easy to cheer up when I start in on the whole routine with them, and the tired adults dragging them around like having a two-minute break from the tantrums. You're kind of a unique case.”

“Thank you. I think.” The knight laughs, and Courfeyrac turns around again. Enjolras really should go join him. “Perhaps we'll stop by a joust later.”

“I'll keep an eye on the crowds. Keep an eye on the lists for Sir Grantaire, if you want to know who to root for.”

“Maybe I will.” He's still mopping at his forehead and failing to do anything judging by the frustration that flits over his face. He's helped Enjolras, reminded him that he's here with his friends and that he's sure to find at least one small thing to keep his interest, so Enjolras feels like he owes him, in some small way. He pulls a handkerchief out of his pocket and hands it over. “Here. Keep it. It looks like you need it more than I do.”

Grantaire, if that's his name, looks startled, but he takes it and presses it to his heart, giving an elaborate bow that draws the attention of several people who are passing, not to mention Courfeyrac, who elbows Combeferre until he turns around to catch the end of it. “I am honored, sir, to bear your favor, even if I don't know whose favor I'm bearing,” says Grantaire, grinning. “Next joust is at two. If you wanted to see.”

“I'll mention it to my friends. And I'm Enjolras.”

“Well, then. I'll see you around, Enjolras.”

Grantaire wanders on, and Enjolras goes over to Combeferre and Courfeyrac even though it's hot and crowded by the blacksmith, who's still doing amazing work. “Who was that?” Courfeyrac asks, slinging an arm around Enjolras's shoulders.

Enjolras smiles and leans into it. “Just a knight saying we should check out a joust later.”

“Then we are definitely doing that.” Courfeyrac raises his eyebrows at Combeferre, who is staring in the direction of the forge with stars in his eyes. “We're doing that, right?”

“Obviously,” says Combeferre, who will need to be reminded at least four times if they're going to drag him away from this display before nightfall. And then, to Enjolras's surprise, he manages to look away for long enough to make eye contact. “Glad you're finally having fun.”

Enjolras ignores that, but he pays attention to the blacksmith, who really is amazing, and then lets Courfeyrac drag them off to find lunch, watch part of a juggling show, and wander through tables of merchandise where none of them actually buy anything even though Combeferre looks tempted by the swords and says they should bring Prouvaire by someday to buy one.

It's Combeferre, in the end, who steers them to the jousting area just before it's scheduled to start, having of course memorized the daily schedule and the map of the grounds before they arrived.

At first, Enjolras can't pick Grantaire out of the group of people coming out of a stable, four in armor on horses and a few more scurrying around, acting as squires. They all have helmets on, and Enjolras tries to remember what colors Grantaire was wearing with his armor until Courfeyrac laughs and elbows him, pointing at a knight riding close to them, with a plain white handkerchief tied around his arm.

“He'd better win, or we're going to have to defend your honor,” says Courfeyrac, just as Grantaire rides by their area of the sidelines and tips up his visor to wink at Enjolras.

Grantaire, as it turns out, is amazing on a horse and with a lance, at least as far as Enjolras can tell, and every time he wins a bout, he bows in Enjolras's direction, which gets everyone looking at them.

By the end of the miniature tournament, Enjolras finds himself cheering every time Grantaire wins, and even more so when he wins the whole thing, bowing to the crowd and holding up his broken lance for everyone to see. When the crowd is starting to disperse, he unties the handkerchief from his arm and rides over to Enjolras and his friends and takes off his helmet, balancing it in front of him. “I had to win, since I was carrying your favor. Do you know what the reward traditionally was?”

Enjolras has a few suspicions, and they're only confirmed by the way Courfeyrac laughs and Combeferre clears his throat. “I don't care much about traditional rewards,” he says, thinking it through, “but if you're interested in dinner, I'd be willing.”

Grantaire beams at him. “Shit, seriously?”

“Of course I'm serious. You did just win a joust for me.”

“I get off in an hour, if you want to meet up by the stables. If I'm not interrupting your day with your friends, that is.”

Courfeyrac grins. “You are definitely not interrupting, this is the most entertaining thing that's happened all day. Enjolras, I give you full permission to abandon us, we'll just go watch the blacksmithing demonstrations until the fair closes down.”

A look at Combeferre just gets him a quick smile and a nod, so Enjolras turns back to Grantaire. “I'll see you in an hour, then.”

“I can return your handkerchief. Unless you'd rather I wash it, it's probably pretty disgusting at this point.”

“I think you can just keep it, if you like,” says Enjolras. “You need to wear someone's favor if you're going to keep winning, after all.”

Grantaire grins. “I'm definitely winning.”

“Then I suppose we both are,” says Enjolras, and gets one more smile before Grantaire rides away.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [(There's Simply Not) A More Congenial Spot](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11156262) by [christchex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/christchex/pseuds/christchex)




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